


BeruJean Week 2015

by wingedmermaid



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-31
Packaged: 2018-04-11 11:10:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4433255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingedmermaid/pseuds/wingedmermaid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection (hopefully) of drabbles for <a href="http://junipernapalm.tumblr.com/post/125121158795/berujean-week-is-here">BeruJean week on Tumblr</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 01. Betrayal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean wasn’t expecting a visit in the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere.

“Jean.”

Jean moved the arm he had draped over his eyes and turned his head toward the voice. A tall shadow, barely visible in the faint glow of the moon, moved behind the first few trees at the edge of the clearing they’d made camp in. Jean sat up, glancing around at his companions, all tucked neatly into their sleeping rolls except for Armin who always ended up half in and half out in a mess of rumpled blankets. Jean knew he’d been having nightmares ever since he’d shot that woman. The guilt for making Armin do that when it should have been him still hung heavy on his heart. 

Jean grit his teeth and turned away from those thoughts, arming himself as he stood. The shadow had moved back into the darkness under the trees and he couldn’t make it out anymore. He stepped carefully, watching for any ambush as he gripped the gun hidden under his cloak tightly. They slept in their clothing, never sure when they might have to run again, but that only worked in his favour in a situation like this.

“Jean,” the soft voice was familiar and Jean’s stomach suddenly turned, nausea flooding him even as he continued moving into the forest. 

“Bertolt,” he growled under his breath. The shadow moved ahead of him and he followed it into another tiny clearing where the moonlight came through brightly enough that he could make him out. Tall, lanky Bertolt in the rags of his Scouting Legion uniform. Jean stayed what he hoped was a safe distance back. Bertolt watched him with those big, sad eyes. “What,” Jean voice cracked on the millions of accusations he wanted to make and he had to start over, _“What are you doing here, traitor?”_

Bertolt’s glanced away. “I- I left them.”

“W-what?” Jean froze with his gun half-drawn.

“I left them,” Bertolt said again. He dared a glance up at Jean. “All of them.”

“It’s too late,” Jean finished drawing the gun and levelled it at Bertolt. “Don’t you understand, Bertolt? It was always too late.” 

Bertolt gave him a small smile, the one he’d only used when they were alone together. “I know. It’s okay. I wanted it to be you.”

Jean’s hands were shaking. He couldn’t aim like this. “You’re a fucking asshole, Bertolt. I thought you didn’t want to die!”

“Here,” Bertolt was suddenly in front of him and before he could jerk back Bertolt had wrapped large hands around his and pressed the gun to his own chest. As Jean gaped up at him he leaned down and carefully pressed soft lips to Jean’s. Jean’s finger tightened on the trigger but he couldn’t remember telling it to and-

“Jean!”

Jean sat up so fast he whacked his forehead into Armin’s.

“You were having a nightmare...” Armin said quietly, rubbing his own forehead. “I thought it might be better to wake you up.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Armin.” Jean flopped back down in his sleeping roll and brought a hand up to wipe away the tears that had leaked down his cheeks as he slept. Then he touched his lips. The sun hadn’t reached his sleeping roll yet but they felt warm. He sighed deeply. It was going to be another long day.


	2. 02. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bertolt didn't used to enjoy dinnertime.

They’re not much but they’re his.

Annie doesn’t come near them. She stays with the other girls, enveloped in their little world of chatter and rumour like a stone in a stream. Not alike, but indistinguishable from any distance.

Reiner is the same. He makes friends with everyone instantly, and through him Bertolt also makes friends. But he doesn’t know what to do with them. He doesn’t know how to chatter easily or how to joke around with his too-large body. He’s afraid he’ll hurt them so he stays quiet and moves carefully. They love Reiner. They tolerate him.

At meals Bertolt sits with Reiner, too shy to try and make a space for himself. The first year Reiner never forgets. Near the end of the second there are a few incidents where he gets too caught up with others and Bertolt ends up sitting at the end of a crowded table of mostly-strangers, alone in his head as he tries to eat his dinner quickly. 

Eating quickly is the one physical skill he’s never learned to do well. He’s mastered the 3DMG, he’s aced the hand-to-hand combat lessons, but he can’t seem to make himself eat any faster than he always has so dinner inevitably becomes a long, drawn-out ordeal. Each spoonful of stew carefully balanced so as not to spill and draw attention to himself.

The third year Reiner becomes too busy, so involved with the other boys that he hardly ever remembers to save a place for Bertolt. But, strangely, there is always a place for him beside Jean. Loud, brash, never afraid to call you out for doing something he views as stupid, Jean. Bertolt accepts it gratefully and doesn’t question the motivation behind it.

One day, Bertolt can’t quite remember when, Jean began accompanying him to the mess hall. He never makes a big deal out of it, just shows up silently and strikes up a conversation about whatever suits him as they walk. Instead of being stressful like most of his day-to-day interactions Bertolt finds it calming, and before he knows what is happening he is responding, joking with him as easily as Reiner might and even laughing sometimes. 

When Jean is sick one night Bertolt feels his absence at the table keenly. He is the first to volunteer to take him a tray — an offer that earns him more than one surprised look — but Jean’s smile when he sees Bertolt enter the infirmary is worth a hundred of those stares. Bertolt feels the warmth of it right down to his toes. It’s when he’s sitting by the bed and breaking pieces of Jean’s bun off, dropping them in the stew so the crust will soften enough not to further irritate Jean’s sore throat, that it dawns on him; Jean has become one of them. One of the small handful of people who Bertolt couldn’t imagine living without. Family.


	3. 03. Falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being kind doesn't always net you instant karma.

When Jean caught Bertolt he thought he was going to die. All he had time to react to was a quick scream of, “Oh shit...!” followed by crashing branches and flailing arms. One quick step to his right put him mostly in the right place and then a body much bigger and heavier than him smashed him back into the ground. He wrapped his arms around Bertolt without thinking, which turned out to be his one saving grace because Bertolt grabbed them as they went down and instead of just landing on Jean — and most likely crushing all the air and life from his (comparatively) fragile form — flipped them into a roll and hauled Jean over top of himself. 

Jean groaned.

Bertolt made a startled noise and sat up, wrapping his own arms around Jean. “You... you caught me. I thought I was going to die.”

Jean was almost glad he didn’t have enough air in his lungs to reply that he thought there was a good chance he still might. “Please...” he wheezed out. “No more rescuing baby birds...”

Bertolt let out a giddy laugh, clearly still high on adrenaline, and kissed Jean full on the mouth, something he rarely did in public. “Not without a ladder.”

Jean found himself breathless for more than one reason now but managed to nod in agreement. “Not without a ladder.”


End file.
